


Cannonball

by Jongley



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Coming Out, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Jealousy, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, but overall this is: softé, ft: the mortifying ordeal of being known, if ur a dc gay hm let's get drinks or something once all of this is Over, my love and adoration of dc gay bars, og summary now found in the notes, shoutout nellie's and also pitchers/a league of her own!!!, this is very soft, yes i changed the summary sorry to confuse it's still the same fic i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 17:41:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23636551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jongley/pseuds/Jongley
Summary: "I mean—" Nolan starts, frustrated, "—I mean, I love you in a bro way, too, but I mean, like—I love you. Like, romantically? Or something."
Relationships: Travis Konecny/Nolan Patrick
Comments: 19
Kudos: 231





	Cannonball

**Author's Note:**

> **the biggest of thank yous to abby and maria for helping and for pumping my tires!!! ily <3**
> 
> slightly spoilery warnings: there's a censored mention of the f-slur; the character thinking about it already thinks it's a shitty thing to say, tho he does reflect on how he used it some as an idiot teen. he knows better now and is very clear abt it. character development babey!
> 
> re: coming out slash The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known, one character comes out as gay and asks the person they're coming out to not to react; they leave before any reaction happens. later, a different character lowkey comes out as bi in the middle of an already tense/complicated discussion, and the person they're coming out to (who's gay) reacts with denial, citing their gaydar as reasoning, in part bc they don't realize the person's actually coming out.

"Hey, so—I'm gonna tell you something, and I need you to just, like. Not react," TK says, as soon as Nolan's opened the door.

"...Oooookay," Nolan says, "Do you wanna, like, come in first, or…?"

TK nods, full bobblehead style like he only does when he's really nervous, and actually waits for Nolan to step aside before he enters, instead of just barreling past him and cannonballing onto the couch like usual.

Shit must be _really_, serious, then. Nolan's not sure he's prepared to deal with whatever this is, like, emotionally or whatever, on account of how it's literally not even 8 AM yet.

"You know that it's, like, 7:30 in the morning, right?" He says as he follows TK to the kitchen, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "You want some eggs?"

"No, I just—sorry, just, can we, like, sit? For a second? And then I can—get out of your hair, or whatever." TK sits down at the kitchen table as he says this, and his knee immediately starts bouncing at lightspeed.

"Uh, yeah, I guess?" Nolan says, wondering if he's actually still asleep and this is all a weirdly realistic dream. He pinches his forearm discreetly to check, and, nope, that definitely stings like a motherfucker, though—he's not totally confident in what exactly that proves, like, if he's awake or not.

"Okay, so, like, like I said, right, I'm just gonna—but I really need you to not—"

"React, yeah, I got it," Nolan says. "Can you just spit it out, doofus? I want eggs, and also you're, like, kind of starting to worry me, or whatever." He's probably mumbling by the end of that, but whatever, TK's way too worked up to chirp him for being soft.

"Yeah, okay, I—here goes," TK says, and blows out a huge breath of air, visibly steeling himself. He makes eye contact with Nolan for just as long as it takes him to say, "I'm gay," and then he's up, out of his chair, knocking his hip into the counter on his way to the door.

He hadn't even taken his shoes off—or his coat—when he arrived, Nolan notes distantly. Huh. He must've been planning to bolt; that's weird, though, because TK pretty much never shows that much foresight. He also has a strange habit of leaving his shit everywhere he goes—Nolan has washed and returned an uncountable number of TK's t-shirts and hoodies and lone socks over the three years of their friendship, and definitely hasn't accidentally-on-purpose let any of them get mixed in with his own laundry and be integrated into his wardrobe.

Nolan is jolted back to the present when he hears TK's shitty country-rap playlist start blaring, faintly audible even from the kitchen, as he turns his car on and pulls out of the driveway.

So, huh, okay. TK is… gay, apparently? Nolan… isn't really sure what to do with that information, honestly; he doesn't know very many gay people in his life, though he's pretty sure some of his sisters' hockey friends are maybe, like, lesbians?

He's not too sure about that, though; female hockey players, as he knows from being trapped in the house during his sisters' countless sleepovers, love to get half-naked and touchy-feely with each other just as much as male hockey players do, so. Kind of a mixed bag, there.

TK probably wasn't expecting, like, a "coming out party," or anything—if that was even a thing people did?—judging by how fast he'd skedaddled, and he'd explicitly asked Nolan not to react to the news in any way, so, Nolan figures he'll kind of just—not ignore it, necessarily, but not actively acknowledge it?

TK's a good talker; if he wants to talk about it, he will. Nolan figures he'll leave it up to TK to bring it up again. Otherwise, it's not like it really changes anything, in Nolan's eyes, like—people are gay, sometimes. Now Nolan knows one of them.

Though, he is wondering—does this mean he has to get offended when he hears guys using the f-slur on the ice? G and JVR had beaten—sometimes literally—the habit out of the Flyers years ago, but some guys on other teams totally still used it during games.

Nolan had never thought it was cool—or, okay, he hadn't thought it was cool since he was like 13 and an idiot who didn't know better than to be mean to people for no other reason than because he could—but his mom had taken him aside and explained why that wasn't okay, and he really hasn't felt the need since. Those videos JVR and G made the team watch, though, about like, gay people talking about the abuse they'd endured, just for being gay? Yeah, those had really hammered the point home, for Nolan.

But, other than maybe needing to back TK up in more scrums on the ice—or, fuck, maybe even needing TK to back _him_ up, since if he's gonna do the whole "my best friend is gay" thing he's gonna do it right, and that includes punching assholes who use "gay" as an insult—other than that, he doesn't expect it to change much of anything.

…

Nolan quickly finds out that it changes pretty much absolutely nothing at all, when it comes to his relationship with TK.

At practice the day after TK "came out" to him or whatever, TK acts a little skittish and distant from Nolan for all of five minutes, until Nolan gives him their usual bro nod and a " 'sup," and then that afternoon TK comes over again and is back to his normal self: he bustles past Nolan, clogging up the hallway, dumps his shoes haphazardly by the shoe rack, cannonballs directly onto the couch, and somehow leaves _both_ his hoodie and his beanie wedged under two different cushions when he leaves.

He also kicks Nolan's ass on Rainbow Road, but that's okay because Nolan fucking obliterates him at 'chel afterwards, and they decide to call in for sushi instead of holding a tiebreaker.

It's a good night, totally normal, and nobody brings up anybody's sexuality, just like normal.

The next few weeks are more of the same, and then suddenly, out of nowhere—TK starts posting more to his finsta. That isn't particuarly weird in and of itself (he's ADHD as fuck, and forgets he has it for months at a time before going on these massive posting sprees), but some of the pictures he puts up are a little more—they're almost—suggestive, one might say.

Not Nolan, of course, because he's not, like, into that sort of thing, but—TK's his best buddy, so he, like, notices. Or whatever.

One of TK's posts has a caption mentioning something about "Grindr," and Nolan—he thinks he knows what that is, but he has to Google it to double check, and, yep—TK is maybe meeting strange, anonymous men for casual sex. Okay, that's—that's something that isn't really any of Nolan's business, actually, and sure he's a nosy bitch but even he can spot a boundary that ought to be respected, and this is clearly one of them.

And then TK puts up a pic of his legs, in these tight-ass ripped-as-fuck skinny jeans, like nothing Nolan's ever seen him wear before, and the timestamp on it says it was posted at 3AM Vegas time, and maybe it's weird lighting or a filter or something, but—TK's knees look kind of, like—kind of _red_, almost, and Nolan is—not equipped to handle that, at 6AM while he's getting ready for a doctor's appointment.

The boys played well, last night, beat the Knights in their own barn, and TK had a goal and an assist, and if he wants to celebrate that by—by doing things, that's fine, that's his prerogative, and Nolan is not going to comment on it, to TK or to anyone else, and Nolan will get a lock on his feelings any minute now, just, as soon as he gets some coffee in his system—even if it's decaf, because the placebo effect is real and powerful—if his hands would just stop fucking _shaking_—and he spills the grounds all over the counter, and that certainly doesn't help quell his anger.

…

Nolan's not sure what to do, with all this anger, or where it's even coming from. It's just—TK posted another story to his finsta, late last night so Nolan didn't see it 'til he woke up this morning, and it had a location tag from some bar, so Nolan looked it up and it was—it was a place called Nellie's, in DC, because TK went to a fucking sports bar—a fucking _gay sports bar_ in _Washington, DC_ after _losing to the Capitals_, and Nolan doesn't care if TK's not that famous outside Philly, he still could get recognized, especially at a goddamn _sports bar_, what the _fuck_, Konecny, you goddamn fucking _doofus_, it's only two hours away from their home arena, and they'd probably been airing the game in the bar earlier, and—Nolan takes a deep breath, tries to focus on the game he's losing to TK at because his mind won't stop going in fucking circles.

It's also just that—not only had TK gone out to a gay fucking sports bar, he'd posted all these pics from it, of him and other guys, and Nolan's glad he's having fun or whatever, and that TK's smart enough not to have his face in any of the pics no matter how locked down his account is (it's got, like, 3 followers, Patty and Crouser and Davo)—but Nolan knows him well enough to be able to identify him in each pic, by outfit and body language and whatever, and the first few pics were of a bunch of different random guys but then one guy started appearing more and more, and one of the pics with him was clearly taken in a bar bathroom, another on the street or in an alleyway probably outside the club, and it's not that Nolan's _jealous_, per se, because that'd be ridiculous, except for how he just wishes—Nolan shuts down that train of thought immediately, because it is not something he can work through while sitting on the couch next to TK and losing at video games, if ever.

He refocuses his attention on the screen just as TK beats him, a hair too late to defend his attack, and curses with prejudice. And, fuck, they'd agreed this was the last round they'd play tonight, because TK had a game last night and an even later night out and a train ride home this morning and he needs to eat and pass out at a reasonable hour, but Nolan cannot sit and eat with him right now and pretend to be normal, he is having a full-blown _crisis_, here, he needs to avoid his own thoughts, he needs TK to stop crowing about his victory, he needs a distraction, he needs to—

"Hey, TK—doofus, hey, you know something?" Nolan starts to say, before his brain has even thought it through, _fuck_.

TK pauses in his victory dance, perched precariously atop the coffee table. "What?" he asks, instantly attentive.

And Nolan's always been a sore loser, is worse when his face gets rubbed in it and TK knows it, and also he's maybe fully dissociating from reality at the moment and not in control of his own body or faculties, and so for those reasons and potentially a whole host of others, Nolan says, with complete sincerity:

"I used to think I was struggling with internalized homophobia, but I think it was that you were the first gay person I ever met in real life and I just hate you so fucking much."

Neither of them reacts for a full minute, it feels like, both of them just frozen, waiting to see what happens. Then it clicks in Nolan's brain, what he's just said, all because he's a whiny little bitch who can't handle his own feelings, and now it's his turn to bolt away from TK after dropping a conversational bomb and before he can see the aftermath.

...

...

When Patty runs to his room, TK doesn't bother following. He knows to give Patty space, because neither of them has the emotional maturity to handle this conversation when tensions are already raised.

TK keeps playing video games on Patty's couch, and shoots some stuff as a temporary outlet for his emotions while he waits for Patty to calm down. He was really kickin' Nolan's ass earlier, but now he's complete dogshit, no reflexes to speak of. _Hmm_.

Eventually, TK knocks on Patty's door, all, "Hey buddy, you've been in your depression moss-covered hollow stump for four hours now, is there something you wanna talk about?"

And Patty's like, "No, and also fuck off."

TK shrugs. "Okay," he says, and opens the door.

There's a Patty-sized lump on the bed, swathed in blankets. TK very determinedly does not cannonball onto it, because contrary to popular belief he is an adult with self-restraint, and instead he approaches the bed slowly, with deliberately audible footsteps so that Patty can hear him coming and won't startle.

TK's made it all the way to the foot of the bed and is silently debating whether or not he should just clamber on up to the Patty-blanket-lump when the Patty-blanket-lump finally starts moving, the top third or so of Patty's head sticking out.

"What do you want, doofus." Patty grumbles, and luckily TK has had a lot of experience interpreting Patty-grumbles, because otherwise this one, spoken directly into four feet of blankets, would be completely incomprehensible.

"Well, a lot of things," TK starts, taking a slight gamble and hoping he can bait Patty into revealing the next third of his head, "like, to win the Cup, obviously, and I could go for some soft pretzels, and—oh, and I wouldn't say no to sucking Jonathan Toews' dick, given the opportunity…"

"You—what?" Patty says, his face appearing from the depths of the blankets to peer at TK through slitted eyes. Bingo.

"Are we, like—are we talking about this, now?" Patty asks, brow furrowed adorably, blinking fast as his eyes re-adjust to the lights. He looks like a baby wombat, TK thinks fondly, totally disoriented by life.

"I mean—I guess? If you, like, want to?" TK's not entirely sure what the "this" they are or aren't talking about is, but he's got a decent enough guess. He's still gonna see how long it takes until Patty cracks and acknowledges it directly, though.

"I thought you, like… didn't want to talk about it, though," Patty says, and takes a deep breath before he continues. "I was trying to, like, respect that. Or whatever."

TK smiles, a little, at that. It's so ass-backwards-ly _Patty_, to take TK at his word like that even when TK is in full-on panic mode and not making any sense or acting at all rationally. Of course Patty would, just, like, listen, and respect whatever TK says.

"I don't actually mind," TK tries to explain. "It was just—I was really nervous, that day, but I only really meant, like, in that moment. I'm fine with talking about it, like, now that I know you're not gonna freak out and be a dick about it."

"But what if I—" Patty breaks off, and pulls the covers back over his head, all the way up to the top of his messy hair. TK leans forward to listen.

"What if I _am_ a dick about it, though," comes Patty's muffled voice, floating out of the in-between spaces of the blanket pile.

TK can't help it—he snorts a laugh.

"You're totally not, though, dude," he counters. "You've been, like, great. I mean, okay, slight misunderstanding about whether you could talk to me about it, but that's more my fault than yours. Based on what I told you, you've been, like, perfectly respectful, bro." He pats vaguely at the edge of the Patty-blanket-lump closest to him, in lieu of a fistbump.

Patty pulls the blankets back down to his nose so he can look at TK, probably trying to see if TK's being serious or not. TK does his best "totally being sincere, bro" face. He thinks it's at least, like, 73% effective.

"Okay, but like—" Patty cuts himself off again, frustrated, but this time he at least keeps his eyes above the blankets. "In my, like, head, or whatever," Patty mumbles, "I get really—bitchy, like, about your dumb finsta stories, and stuff."

TK takes the opportunity Patty's nearly inaudible mumble presents to clamber up on top of the Patty-blanket-lump while he mulls that over.

"Oh," he says, when it clicks. "_Oh_, wait, that's actually—don't laugh, okay, but that was kind of, like, the point? So you definitely shouldn't feel bad about that, it's one hundo percent my fault," TK admits, and now it's his turn to bury his face in the mountain of blankets.

TK can still feel Patty's confused-judgey stare, even if he can't see it. He peeks an eye out to check, and—Yep. There it is.

"What do you mean." Nolan grumbles, and it's not a question.

TK sighs. Might as well come clean, he guesses. Reward Nolan for discussing Feelings™ with honesty.

"I mean that I, like. That I was trying to make you, like, jealous?" TK's not sure why that came out a question; he definitely _was_ trying to make Patty jealous, but like, emotional vulnerability is hard, yo.

TK coughs, tries again. "I guess?" Yeah, that's not better. He shuts up.

"You guess?" Nolan says, and TK feels him sitting up, more blankets accumulating on top of TK, "You _guess_?"

TK nods into the blankets, shamefaced, and Patty scrubs a hand over his face.

"Why would you even want to, like—do that." He asks, foregoing normal question intonation once again.

TK rolls over and tries to smother himself in a pillow. It doesn't work, so he mumbles, "BecauseIlikeyou."

Nolan doesn't even need to say anything; he just sits and waits for TK to capitulate. TK can feel the itch of his bitchy, judgey stare tickling the back of his neck. He lets it go on for another minute or so before he huffs dramatically and flops over.

Then TK gets tangled in all the stupid fucking blankets, of course, flopping around like a dying fish and ruining the theatricality of his drama-queen performance, but—it's not like he could hold a candle to Nolan's drama-queen-y-ness, anyways, so whatever.

He gives up on untangling himself when he catches Nolan's stare, still just sitting there next to TK, bed-head on full display, looking peeved and grumpy and still not unlike a disgruntled wombat. TK wants to un-disgruntle him. To _gruntle_ him.

"I want to gruntle you," he announces to the ceiling, morose, smiling faintly when Patty splutters next to him.

"You—I don't even know what that—That's not a _word_," Patty says, indignant. "Doofus," he adds, grumbling.

"You looked disgruntled," TK explains patiently. "I want to un-disgruntle you. To _gruntle_ you." He waves an arm vaguely for emphasis.

"I don't have the slightest idea what goes on inside your brain," Patty says wondrously.

And, oh. Right. That's what they were talking about.

TK sighs. "Yeah, bud," he says, "I know." He takes a deep breath to fortify himself, and admits, "I'm, like, massively into you, so. That's why."

Patty doesn't say anything; TK can feel his gaze, but doesn't meet it, staring resolutely up at the ceiling. The lamp in the middle of it kind of looks like a boob, from this angle. He'll never be able to finish explaining this if he's looking at Patty's face while he does it, so. _Here goes nothing_, he thinks to himself, and takes another fortifying breath.

"That's why I was, like. So nervous to come out to you, and stuff. Not because I thought you'd be a dick, but because your opinion really, like, matters to me. And also because I was a little scared that then you'd suddenly be able to, like, look at me, and _know_. That I'm into you, that is.

"And then you didn't say _anything_ about it, for days and then for _weeks_, and I know that's what I asked you to do and you were respecting that, but it wasn't what I actually, like, wanted—nevermind that I hadn't _told_ you what I actually wanted, so, like. I started posting shit to my finsta, like with random guys and stuff, to try to make you jealous or whatever, and Crouser kept making fun of me for being so transparent, but I guess it didn't, like, click for you, or something, so, you know. That's why, and stuff," he finishes lamely.

TK hears Patty take a deep inhale next to him, and finally looks over at him. Patty looks—

Patty looks _conflicted_, somehow, both pissed off and not, hopeful yet not—mostly just _confused_, over everything, and TK can't blame him—TK's mostly just glad Patty's still _here_, isn't kicking him out and yelling and shit, but he's clearly processing something, so TK lets him be, tries to just exist, quietly, peacefully, for a few minutes.

TK, being TK, lasts for approximately forty seconds at resting peacefully, which is, frankly, not a small accomplishment for him. He rolls over to face Patty, who still has the same expression on his face—obviously, because it hasn't even been a full minute, yet, and TK just dropped a huge emotional bomb on him, and Patty processes things at normal-person speed, not TK's lightspeed, and—Patty opens his mouth, and TK freezes.

"I think I'm in love with you," Patty says, looking a little confused and a lot sincere, and, hold up—freeze frame, record scratch, what in the absolute _fuck_?

"What in the absolute _fuck_ did you just say?" TK squeaks out, starting to hyperventilate.

Patty rolls his eyes. "You heard me." He mumbles.

TK swats at him. "No, no, don't get mumbly, go back to the other thing," TK says, "Obviously I love you, too, bro, but like, where the fuck is this coming from?" TK's, like, really lost, here.

"I mean—" Nolan starts, frustrated, "—I mean, I love you in a bro way, too, but I mean, like—I love you. Like, romantically? Or something."

"What are you—You're not even gay!" TK says, indignant.

"What do you—I could be gay!" Nolan protests, "How would you know?"

"Uh, because _I'm_ gay, dumbass," TK says, "and us gays have this little thing called _gaydar_, okay, and—"

"Well, clearly your gaydar is _broken, doofus_," Patty bitches, "because I am definitely, like, _into you_—"

"Okay, one, _rude_, but two, okay I can actually kind of see it, like, your summer outfits do carry a distinctly bisexual energy, maybe that's why I didn't pick up on it—"

"Why are you fighting me on this, aren't you supposed to, like, support me when I'm coming out to you? Also weren't you literally just saying that you have a big dumb gay _crush_ on—"

"Oh my _god_," TK says, when he realizes the significance of everything being said right now, "_oh my god_. You're _into me_?" And, oh, nice, his voice is breaking like he's fourteen again.

"_Yes_, you colossal idiot, that's what I've been trying to _tell you_, you absolute cretin of a human—mmph—"

Nolan doesn't get to finish his admittedly splendid insults, because TK finally launches himself at Patty's face and plants one on him.

"I love you," TK says, breaking the kiss to look deep into Patty's eyes and smushing Patty's dumb, perfect face between his hands.

Patty rolls his eyes. God, TK loves him.

God, Patty loves him _back_.

TK kisses him again, gasping into it, trying to lean back and pull Nolan on top of him. Nolan isn't feeling it, though, staying strong like a tree or some shit, so TK changes course, gets his legs underneath himself so he can bowl Patty over backwards and then climb on top of him.

Patty breaks the kiss, startled, and TK laughs at the disgruntled expression on his face, feeling giddy.

"You're such a _doofus_," Nolan says, rolling his eyes, "Shut _up_."

"I didn't even say anything!" TK protests, laughing. Then he challenges Patty, "_Make_ me," because he's always wanted to say that in this context and now is clearly his chance.

They're both grinning as they lean in, which makes the kiss kind of crappy, actually, but that's okay. They'll practice.

**Author's Note:**

> if you recognized some of the dialogue in this fic, it's probably because i copied it from [this tumblr post](https://roswell-newton-vargas.tumblr.com/post/187911373648/i-used-to-think-i-was-struggling-with) as well as [this one](https://normal-horoscopes.tumblr.com/post/188851711765/hey-buddy-youve-been-in-your-depression), and also that one curséd scene from teen wolf when stiles' dad [the sheriff's name is john] pulls him out of jungle by the scruff of his neck.
> 
> pls enjoy some gems from the comment section of this google doc re: who should be the third person w access to tk's finsta:  
**me:** PLS SUGGEST A 3RD FRIEND TK LETS FOLLOW HIS FINNSTA FOR PLAUSIBLE DENIABILITY REASONS  
**maria:** i cackled at the plausible deniability. u could do towes lol. not bc that makes sense but bc personally i would like to see nolan have a meltdown over **that**.  
**abby:** Maria holy shit I need it so badly to be Toews but that would be another meltdown entirely.  
**me:** oh my GOD toews would be TOO PERFECT. but then i would have to add like FIVE THOUSAND WORDS on nolan angsting about that and whether or not tk is trying to make a move on NOLAN'S SUMMER FLING, WTF, THAT'S MY EX UR SPOSTA TAKE MY SIDE EVEN IF IT WAS AMICABLE, and oh my god angsting over whether or not he should call tazer about it bc what if????  
and then it turns out it was a sock puppet account tk created himself to look like toews' finsta bc no way in hell does jonathan toews know that finstas are even, like, a thing
> 
> why does tk think nopat looks like a wombat? i wish i could tell you:  
**me:** genuinely no idea why i said wombat but like. maybe opossum?  
**me:** like, has travis konecny ever seen a baby wombat ever before in his life? probably not, no. does nolan patrick look like a baby wombat? not particularly, no. does this somehow seem incredibly true and on-brand to me regardless? yes.  
**maria:** listen, jen, i think wombat is a cute word and a cute animal and as such i vote use it. very logical train of thought as u can see  
**abby:** I absolutely agree, I screeched at the image  
**me:** incredible, glad we all had the exact same experience of This Is Right And No I Cannot Articulate Why


End file.
